Resurrect Thy Heart (Supernatural-Romance)

Chapter 5: The Look That Tells It All

The two priests arrived in the residence at exactly eleven thirty in the morning. It was lunch time of course, so the growling of Marcus' stomach was understandable even though he just had four rolls of pastry an hour ago. Luckily enough, the moment they entered inside the mansion's foyer and after exchanging pleasantries with Madame Regina and Master Alfon, they were directed straight all the way to the family dining room. They were important guests, so no one except the Mistress and the Master planned to dine with them. And Ysabelle, supposed to be, if she decides to show herself up on time.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable, Father Marcus, Father Julien," Madame Regina stated, gesturing for them to sit in their reserved seats.

"Yes, Madame, thank you." Marcus was the one who answered politely.

At the right side of Alfon's center chair was where he sat, and beside him, Father Julien situated himself. On the left was Regina and next to her, a plate was readied too, but Marcus thought it odd that nobody occupied the seat.

The table was rectangular, made with tinted glass. It was filled with mouthwatering courses of meat and fish, and a large array of fruits and pastries, something that Marcus was very delighted about. However, his delight immediately redirected elsewhere, to a woman particularly, when she stepped inside the huge dining hall.

"Ah! Ysabelle. Come! Come! Just in time. Don't keep our guests waiting," Alfon declared, pointing to the vacant seat right next to his wife.

Marcus' stare betrayed him as it kept itself glued on the woman across the dining table. Yes, his heart, keeping normal beats as usual, jumped anew three times in a row, after realizing that the beautiful apparition in his front and the photographer he was staring at in the plaza was one and the same.

Surely, this was purely coincidence?

The beige chiffon dress Ysabelle wore blessed his eyes. It had a sweetheart neckline, but the chest and neck area was covered with a lace cloth. It was of decent length, just above the knee, and although the sides were styled in drapes, Marcus could clearly see her curves being flaunted perfectly. Indeed, this was something he did not dare realize at all. No. Not way back then in the park, but only now. She looked entirely different in her clothing; more sophisticated, more high-born. Priests wasn't expected to compliment on anything, all the more on a woman, but he did, hiding it through a smirk on his lips.

"Father Marcus, Father Julien, this is my niece, Ysabelle Rogratiatto," Alfon announced, when Ysabelle sat down on the chair. She eyed the two and there was a short glimpse of surprise Marcus noticed from her expression when their gaze connected.

Taking a deep breath and clearing her throat afterwards, Ysabelle dipped her head, looking at them whilst saying, "Good day, Fathers."

It was Father Julien, the closest of the two across the table, who dared reach a hand on her for formality's sake. "Good day to you too, Ms. Ysabelle," he stated with ease, showing his well-practiced smile.

Marcus only watched as Ysabelle received the secretary's soft handshake. He watched her curve her lips modestly, adoring how fine she moved in her chair. It was surely the opposite of how carefree she squatted in the fountain's base. Definitely, it was a clear-cut difference of personalities and somehow, it amused him watching the change. Choosing not to do the same, he decided to dodge their impending handshake by swinging a conversation with the Master of the House.

"Where are your other family members, Sir Alfon? Are they not going to dine with us?"

"Ah, unfortunately they are busy, Father," the Master quickly replied. He moved to take a bottle of wine in his side of the table, a 1990 Dom Perignon Vintage, and poured a generous amount on Father Marcus' flute. Marcus watched as pockets of bubble escaped into the surface of the red liquid. He wasn't one who takes fine pleasures in drinking wines, but this time, it was an exception having the Master himself pouring it in his empty container.